BRYONY FALLS
From the parking lot, Bryony saw a multitude of people milling around a mountain of combustible material. Tradition designated the last Thursday in September as kick-off day for Homecoming. Activities to reunite Fieldstone High alumni with each other and to connect them to current students commenced with a bonfire. The evening event had grown over the years, and now included a food truck rally, vendor booths, and three hours of stage performances by local entertainers. Bryony joined the throng slogging through wet grass from an earlier downpour and heading toward the conical pile awaiting a lit match.
Halfway there, she found herself side-by-side with Charity Henderson. Per usual, Charity looked like a million bucks, which was probably only half the estate value she had inherited from her parents.
“Hello, Bryony,” Charity said. “I heard you’re working with Lillian now.”
Was she goading her? Bryony chose to not take the bait. “I heard about Chuck’s heart issues. How’s he doing?” she asked, the hairs on her neck raised, her jaw clenching.
“Better!” Charity answered. “Thanks for asking.”
Nearing an appropriate place to veer right, Bryony started to say farewell when Charity spoke again.
“You’re missed at Metcalf, you know. If you ever want to come back, there’s a place for you there.” As a teenager, Charity Beaman had possessed the enviable ability to appear completely sincere while rocking an inner sneer. Apparently, time had not diminished that capacity.
“Thanks, I’m happy where I am.” As Bryony moved away, she called back, “Say hello to Chuck,” and then turned her attention forward, trying to let all that had passed stay in the past, where it belonged.
Lillian, Rick, and their brood greeted Bryony with a swarm of hugs. As usual, the sons soon left to join old friends for a game of touch football, while the in-law daughters dispersed together. Grandma and Grandpa would watch the grandkids.
“Rick, will you take the kids over for candy apples?” Lillian asked. “Bryony and I want to wander around and say hello to folks.”
This, too, followed their established tradition, but Rick never complained. He kissed his wife on the cheek and instructed his six grandchildren to pair up and hold hands before steering them away. “Meet up at the lighting of the fire?” he called over his shoulder.
“We’ll be there!” Lillian answered.
He moved on, clearly in charge of his half dozen with humor and smiles.
“You’re lucky,” Bryony said. “Rick is an angel.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Lillian said. “He’s a man. And because he’s a man, he often requires the same kind of effort required of children and grandchildren—basic training in courtesy, hygiene, and safety.”
“But he’s a good one.” Bryony watched as Rick stood in line at the candy apple stand, his arms reaching out to gather his progeny and protect them. “You know how lucky you are, right?”
“I do.” Lillian gazed after her husband. “He’s my rock.” She turned back to Bryony and asked, “Where should we go first?”
“Vendor booths,” Bryony answered. “Maybe next year we offer coffee and bagels?”
“You think you’ll still be with me next year?” Lillian linked her arm with Bryony’s and led the way. “I hope so, but only if that’s good for you.”
“You’re always good for me,” Bryony said. She didn’t bother telling Lillian about the brief encounter with Charity. Lillian had never quite understood.
Bryony and Lillian met in seventh grade, their friendship emerging when paired for a party-making project in Home Economics. From that moment on, they had been the best of friends, in spite of their inherent differences—Bryony being the quiet, shy one, and Lillian being the life of the party—and in complete agreement about all things, with the exception of their opinions on the popular girls.
Bryony could never quite convince Lillian of the damage done by Charity, Susie, and their little squad of backbiters. Lillian seemed impervious to the impact of their antics. In this area of life only, Bryony had suffered alone, but in all other ways, the two had been each other’s champions.
Now they stood together, forty-two years later, in front of a booth selling brownies and cookies.
“Remember those little pies we made for our Home Ec project?” Lillian asked.
“Of course I do.” Bryony had stayed up all night modifying the recipe until the tarts were as close to perfection as possible.
“What would it take to start making those for the coffee shop?”
“Me, cloned,” Bryony said.
Lillian laughed. “I could use a few more of you in my life.”
They sauntered together, stopping to chat with old friends and new customers, when someone tapped Bryony’s shoulder.
Cal Forster stood beside them, a worn purple leash drooping between him and his big, curly haired dog. “What an event, huh? I had no idea. This must be bigger than the Fourth of July!”
“Don’t bet on it,” Lillian said. “You haven’t seen our Fourth of July.”
A small show of fireworks exploded in Bryony’s brain. She leaned down to ruffle the fur around the dog’s head, to tamp down unbidden, unexpected excitement.
As Lillian and Cal exchanged small talk, the intensity of their interaction crescendoed. Lillian’s voice gained volume. Cal’s perpetual patter ramped up to full speed, witty remarks inserted with strategy and skill. Lillian’s laughter peaked three or four times. Bryony looked down at Bailey. He cocked his head at her, as if to say, I’m not sure what that’s about either.
She leaned over and patted his head again. The dog’s hypnotic response to her touch indicated she didn’t have to be entertaining or interesting to make a strong, healthy connection with another living being. She wished people were as easy.
“You are a treasure, Cal,” Lillian said. “My husband will love you.”
“Hopefully not more than he loves you,” Cal said.
Lillian chortled again and turned to Bryony. “Do you mind if I take off for a bit? I need to catch up with Rick and the kids.”
Disoriented for a second, Bryony wondered if Lillian remembered it had been her idea for Bryony to attend every year. She started to protest, but Lillian was already moving away. This was a first. In the past, Lillian had always insisted they stay together for the entire night, citing it as one of the “signature events” of their friendship, like a commemorative holiday or a wedding anniversary.
